


Endings

by doomedship



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomedship/pseuds/doomedship
Summary: Stories don't end halfway through.
Relationships: Claire Browne/Neil Melendez
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	Endings

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the sad.

(i)

in a way he has you at hello

because on sight alone something about him finds its way straight to the heart of you.

a chemistry that cannot be denied, a feeling you cannot really explain.

but in a way he has none of you at hello,

because he forgets your name two minutes after you tell it to him

and he keeps giving you only half his attention because the other half

keeps landing squarely on his fiancée in the hall.

you also did not know it was possible to be as arrogant as this man clearly is,

the way he walks around god-like, as if bullets would bounce off his tattooed skin.

you wish you could ask him what they mean,

but you are his resident and it would be inappropriate.

as would many things you secretly think about when it comes to him.

you would sooner give up your licence than admit to any of them though.

so you feign a lofty disapproval, and never back down from a fight.

unfortunately, he seems to like that about you.

(ii)

you kill a patient

with a botched intubation of all things.

you don't tell him anything because you don't know how.

even though you desperately long for someone to tell you that you are absolved.

someone must tell him though because you can see it in his eyes,

when he sits you down and asks if you're okay.

you say you are fine and he doesn't challenge your obvious lie,

but at your next surgery he stands closer to you than usual

as your fingers struggle not to shake.

and he speaks instructions low and calm like a lover might, meant for your ears only.

"that's it, not too close to the carotid sheath. yeah, you got it."

and from his steady voice

you feel your fear that you will end another life start to lessen its hold

because you cannot see how anything in the world could go wrong while he is watching over it.

you meet his eye over the final sutures of a flawless surgery and you hope that he gets the message in your eyes,

the one you cannot say in words.

that you admire and respect him, and you are grateful that he is in your life.

that you wish you could tell him more.

(iii)

you are unsure what to make of the changes that time brings

because most of the changes are ones you didn't mean.

like jared, who is far too attached

to you, when you only really meant to pass the time.

like him breaking up with jessica, over something you think you might have made him see.

but you aren't sure what to do with those changes,

aren't sure there's anything you can do, so you carry on, while a tension under the surface grows between you.

you challenge his authority in a way he cannot ignore,

and later you think you probably knew exactly what would happen if you did.

wanted it, even.

because he's temporarily not your boss when you do, and that is a seductive notion,

though it is childish really, because nothing changes just because he's thrown you off his service.

and you feel sorry for yourself in the end, because you miss out most.

but you are proud

and you won't apologise for something you don't regret

even when he starts screwing lim instead for something to do.

you put on a brave face

and trust that in time you will find your way back.

(iv)

your world caves in

too many times to count.

you watch as kayla dies in her husband's arms, and you plan the funeral so he won't have to.

you knew even neil could not buy her forever but it is still a shock when she goes.

but not as much a shock as when your mother

winds up wrapped around a lamppost

all because you were holding onto the hope of being able to celebrate something

when really you should have known better.

your pride always comes before a fall.

you can't tell him even though he should probably know.

but you can't bear to see the sympathy, or hear his good advice.

you would rather destroy yourself with people you don't know

than let him get involved with someone as fucked up as you.

you think you can handle this alone,

and if you can't, it won't matter. because you're not sure what you're even sticking around for anymore.

everything you have ever loved gets lost along the way.

(v)

if anyone ever asks you what grace looks like

you will say it goes like this.

grace is a moment in a dark stairwell

when somebody finally reaches you through the pain.

it is cold night air in your lungs as your feet chase down the pavement,

running headlong into someone's care.

you had thought that you were lost, that there was no way back,

but he proves you wrong about this

like the teacher that he is.

he is the lifeline that lets you know you were drowning, and you can feel yourself clinging to him

in a way that thrills and terrifies you.

you say again this is platonic so you can keep it safe from prying eyes,

while every day you fall more in love with him than you ever knew you could.

and this is love, you realise. this is what they meant.

the feeling is addictive, and you get it now.

you think your time is coming, that things are looking up.

you forget that your pride always comes before a fall.

(vi)

you press your lips to his when you are the last in room 5.

when you are the last to say goodbye.

he holds you like he's desperate to stay but you both know the dawn is coming

faster than either of you can control.

there is that light that comes too fast over the horizon,

the one you have seen too, too many times.

it is the light that touches and takes, and leaves you scorched in its wake.

your last kiss with him is the taste of salt, and broken edges, and unfinished business.

and when you are the one who pulls the drips from his skin,

when you lay the head of his bed gently down,

you leave a part of yourself forever in his hands,

hands which have so recently caressed your skin, have made you feel his love.

but hands which you must let slip gently through your own

and lay down one more time.

(vii)

maybe you are not surprised when you see him again.

your extremes of grief and exhaustion have made you think you might be finally coming undone

and he is always there for you when you are on the edge.

you have never felt more lost than now

when the world seems to be ending

in a plague that seems like mother nature herself raging against the loss

of a man who must have been her finest creation, who could not have been more loved.

his image becomes your constant companion, so real he almost makes you rethink your every belief.

"it's okay to hurt," he tells you, on the bench you used to run past

together when it would feel like nobody could hurt you.

he looks at you and your heart aches.

"it's okay to love me still."

you are sure he says it because you know you do.

because you know you always will.

(viii)

you see him, one last time, though you don't know it then.

he's sitting in your car, like he's coming along for the ride.

he tells you he will always love you.

that he watches over you still.

but when you draw breath to tell him all that you mean for him to know

you find he is already gone

into the bright sunlight where your eyes don't follow.

you know he will never leave you

because he is laced through you like an artery, wrapped around bone.

but you just don't see him anymore, not like you did.

not for now,

not until the sunlight touches you too.  
  
"I'll be waiting for you,"

you can almost hear, and you wonder if it's wrong to pray

that he will not wait for long.

(ix)

so many days make up a life

but you have to wait a long time to stop treating each one as a burden

and rediscover what it means to live.

it is a marathon doing this without him

and though you move hospitals, and states, and find people to share happiness with again

it is nothing compared to the one who came before.

and you realise eventually that you are relieved by this.

you realise that you are glad he made such a mark

that no other touch could ever brush it away.

it is fitting, if at times a lonely sentence to be served out

always as one half of a separated pair.

yet in the end it works out just fine.

you have served your time, lived your life, saved countless others.

you have no unfinished business, except for one thing.

and you don't intend for that to be unfinished long,

not when picking it back up

is one short sleep away.

(x)

one day

you are back on the running bench you used to meet him on

and you cannot much remember how you got there, or even how much time has passed.

your feet press over fresh grass, and the sunlight here doesn't burn your eyes.

somebody sits next to you, and you turn as if surprised,

but more like you were expecting this all along.

"you're right on time," he says, draping an arm behind you on the bench.

"am I?" you say, because you cannot remember keeping

to any kind of schedule.

"doesn't matter," he says, and there's that smile.

he slides his fingers through your own and you realise

he is not a vision now,

because the last time he touched you he was dying in your arms.

"we have all the time we like," he says. "we have forever."

and you smile, because you knew

stories don't end only halfway told.


End file.
